Once I Have You, I'll Never Let You Go
by justagirlthatdreams
Summary: John and Sherlock's first time sleeping in the same bed again. Lots of fluff
1. Fluffy Sleeping

"Hurry up, John!" Sherlock called to his partner who was lagging behind.

"Sorry, Sherlock. I- I just haven't run th- this much in- in a long time." John puffed struggling to catch up with the taller of the pair who was running effortlessly.

"They're getting away!" Sherlock sped up and jumped over the dumpster. John jogged past the dumpster and stopped to rest. He was exhausted from running the multiple miles all across town trying to catch the ringleader of a foreign drug gang and guilty of a double homicide.

_In out. In out. _ John thought resting his hands on his head, trying to regulate his John was pondering on Sherlock's ability to run fast over long distances, a shadow dropped down from the roof above. It pulled out a silver hand gun out and pressed it to John's temple. John's normal heartbeat sped up at the touch.

"Hello, John Watson." She smiled slightly showing her face out of the shadow. "I saw you stay back to rest and figured your friend would come running if there was a gun shot and a yelp of pain." Her voice was sickly sweet, like rotten honey in John's ears. John tried backing away but the woman had a death grip on his arm.

Behind the two, Sherlock came sneaking back, his plan falling into place. He knew that the woman they were chasing was going to use John for bait. He picked up a board up off the ground and whacked the woman on the head. She slumped down unconscious.

"Say good-bye, honey." John closed his eyes but the expected pain never came. Instead the grip on his arm lessened and he opened his eyes. The woman laid crumpled on the ground. His whipped around, not knowing what had caused her to be unconscious.

"Sherlock, thank god. I thought sh- she was going to shoot me." John said, relieved.

"Good, she took the bait. Lets go home." Sherlock suggested as he texted the woman's coordinates to Lestrade and John handcuffed the woman to the dumpster.

"Wait, what do you mean 'bait'? Sherlock!" John asked chasing after Sherlock. Sherlock hailed a cab.

"I knew that she was going to go after you to get me to come so I tired you out and ran ahead so she could come and we could get her." Sherlock explained in the cab.

"But I could of died!"

"There was no threat. I was going to get to you in time."

John was full to the brim with retorts that she could have pulled the trigger from the roof, but he knew that Sherlock was as stubborn as a door knob, so he refrained and finished the car ride in silence.

When they got home, John collapsed on his bed, exhausted.

"Here's some water, John." Sherlock handed him a glass of ice water. John took it and greedily drank from it.  
"Thanks." John said when he finished. "I was thinking, maybe we could sleep together tonight. Not in that way! Just sleeping in the same bed, tonight. Nothing sexual."

"Well, I don't suppose it could hurt." Sherlock said, secretly happy that his boyfriend asked him that. John smiled and got up to get ready for bed.

When the Sherlock finished getting ready for bed, he climbed into bed and laid on his side of his bed. Both of them felt awkward during this. Slowly both fell asleep.

John's eyes flew open. The end to another nightmare. He turned to check the clock.

2:27am.

He could get back to sleep in a couple hours. John turned to discover Sherlock snuggled up against him. His forehead rested just above John's ear, and Sherlock's arm was draped over John's stomach. John tried to readjust himself, but Sherlock pulled him closer.

John smiled and leaned his forehead against Sherlock's and draped his arm around his boyfriend.

"Love you." He whispered and drifted asleep.

"Love you, too." Sherlock subconsciously whispered back just in time before they both fell asleep.

**A/N  
**

**I hope you like this! Its my first Johnlock fanfic so tell me how it is. **


	2. John Dying

**So I got this idea when I was doing a chat on omegle. This is Post-Reichenbach and not really Johnlock. More angsty. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Please don't kill me.  
**

John sipped carefully on the cup of hot tea Mrs Hudson prepaired for him. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

It had been almost three years since Sherlock fell. John had almost gotten over the death. It was hard to see all of Sherlock's stuff still lying about. John hadn't had the time or the heart to clean any of it out.

John jumped as his phone beeped. It hadn't made a noise in two years. John stopped talking to his friends and slowly they stopped trying to contact him. John only kept it charged just in case Sherlock was alive, but his faith withered away every passing day. He pulled it out of his coat pocket

**7:44**

I'm not dead. SH

_What? Get off of Sherlock's phone. This joke isn't funny! JW_

This isn't a joke, John. Its me, Sherlock. SH

**7:46**

_Prove it, kids. JW_

The lasts words I said to before I fell was "Good Bye, John." SH

**7:47**

_Sherlock? But your dead. I saw you fall. JW_

Yes, John. You saw but didn't observe. SH

_How did you pull it off? JW_

**7:48**

I'll tell you when I'm home. SH

_Where are you? Come home. JW_

I can't SH

**7:49**

_Are you hurt? Is something wrong? JW_

No. I just can't tell you. SH

_When will you be home? JW_

**7:50**

Depends. It could be a couple weeks or a couple months SH

_Why did you leave? JW_

**7:51**

Moriarty's gunman were positioned to shoot you, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. SH

_Oh my god. Are you hunting them down? JW_

Yes. I have only one left. SH

_Any leads? JW_

**7:52**

None. SH

_Let me help. JW_

I can't let you. SH

_I'll stay home and help. What can I do from home_? JW

Stay safe. SH

**7:53**

_Other than that. Do you have a name I can listen for? JW_

I can't tell you, John. SH

_Text me a picture and I'll look for them. JW_

I can't, John. SH

**7:54**

_Let me help! JW_

I can't, John. I would be worried sick. It would take my mind off the case. SH

_Fine, have it your waadsg;aklfyh a/fgh_

**7:55**

John? What happened? SH

**7:59**

John? Are you ok? SH

**8:07**

JOHN! SH

**8:09**

_I told you to not tell anyone you were alive. Now this is the price you will pay. M_

MORAN!

Sherlock hastily stashed his phone in his coat pocket and raced outside to the street.

"Taxi!" Sherlock called raising an arm and a cab pulled over. "221 Baker Street. Step on it."

The cabbie sped off and Sherlock grabbed a twenty out of his pocket. He learned it was wise to carry pocket money around.

Sherlock threw the at the driver and lept out of the car as it was slowing down. He ran inside the house and just narrowly avoided colliding with Mrs. Hudson.

"Sherlock, dearie, whats going on?" She asked, her mind automatically going back to three years ago.

"Can't talk, now Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock called, running up the stairs as Mrs. Hudson realized that Sherlock was supposed to be dead.

"Oh, my. I have been taking way to many herbal teas." The distressed woman, thought to herself as she sat hurried to get a drink.

Sherlock barged into his room to see John lying on the ground with a gunshot through his temple. Sherlock choked back the lump in his throat. He ran over to John and lifted him up, cursing himself for his urge to text John.

He had thought it was safe, since there was only one left, but it wasn't.

"Oh, John. I'm so sorry. I am going to kill this bastard if its the last thing I do." Sherlock whispered, tears silently streaming down his face. He clutched John's head to his chest.

Sherlock's phone beeped and pulled him out of his trance. He cursed himself for his moment of weakness and not observing that John's phone was missing.

**8:32**

You know where to find me. M

Sherlock laid John back down and stood up, wiping his tears away. He went to hail a taxi to St. Barts. He road the elevator with a calm, deep rage.

Moran stood on the roof, with a gun aimed on Sherlock. He fired, but Sherlock calmly dodged. He dodged every shot fired at him until he was face to face with Moran. In a blink of an eye Moran raised his gun, but Sherlock calculated that movement. In an instant, Moran's arm was pinned behind him, bending at an unhealthy angle. A crack sounded out as Moran cried out, but still Sherlock kept bending it. He forced Moran to the side of the roof and pushed him off.

Sherlock stood there, with half a smile planted on his face.

"Good bye, John." Sherlock whispered.


End file.
